


Mok'tah

by jamelia116, Penny_P, Voyager_Virtual Season_7-5_Staff_Writers (jamelia116)



Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [13]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Sexual Abuse, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 06:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/jamelia116, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penny_P/pseuds/Penny_P, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/Voyager_Virtual%20Season_7-5_Staff_Writers
Summary: When a man on the run arrives on Voyager and begs for the crew's help, the enemy ship which is chasing him threatens to destroy them all. A direct sequel to Voyager Virtual Season 7.5's first episode, "Wrongs Not Forgotten."Warning: This story contains mentions of physical and sexual torture that occur "offstage" and may trigger emotional distress in some readers.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> [Previously, on vvs7.5: In Episode 1, "Wrongs Not Forgotten" Voyager encountered a Cadassian ship, the Malik Ohn, that had been pulled to the Delta Quadrant by the Caretaker 35 years earlier and had since become a pirate ship. When Captain Janeway was abducted, her rescue was aided by Ramon Hernandez, a Starfleet Intelligence officer who had infiltrated the Cardassian crew and spent his time in the Delta Quadrant as little more than a slave on the ship. Although invited to join Voyager's crew, Hernandez chose to leave the ship on his own.]
> 
> This episode is a direct sequel to Voyager Virtual Season 7.5's first episode, "Wrongs Not Forgotten," which also contained scenes of violence and physical torture by Cardassian characters. Please be aware of this before reading this episode.

**Prologue**  
  
" _bIlujlaHbe'chugh bIQaplaHbe'_."  
  
From the other side of the holodeck, Lt. Joe Carey turned, startled. "What was that, Lieutenant?"  
  
B'Elanna shook her head, feeling chagrined. "It's a Klingon proverb -- 'If you cannot fail, you cannot win.' I needed the reminder."  
  
Carey grinned. "I know what you mean. But I figure we've experienced the failure part. This time we win. I'm ready when you are."  
  
She wanted to be as optimistic, but she was too nervous. All the preliminary tests in the Engineering Lab had been perfect, but they needed a holodeck simulation to test the effects of their handiwork on the ship as a whole. The memory of the fateful holodeck simulations on the slip-stream two years earlier were painfully fresh. "All right. Computer, initiate program Torres Transwarp Test Zeta."  
  
Immediately, the grid of the holodeck melted into a recreation of _Voyager's_ bridge, complete with crew - the Captain in her command chair, Chakotay to her left, Tuvok, Harry, and Tom in their regular positions. She and Carey were the only biological beings involved in the test; she would have preferred to have others from her research team present, but Icheb was taking a midterm and Vorik was with Tom and Tal Celes on the _Delta Flyer,_ trying to find a friendly world where they might find replacement equipment. Harry had been especially helpful with the Zornon tech, but since then he had been tied up with his department evaluations and a "personal matter" lately. He wasn't even aware of her latest breakthrough.  
  
Carey took his position at the main engineering console to the Captain's right, and B'Elanna moved to the auxiliary Engineering station on the upper deck, immediately behind the Captain. The station had been manned by Seven for so long that it felt strange to be there again. Mentally crossing her fingers, she said, "Captain, we're ready."  
  
The replica of Janeway nodded. "It's your show, Lieutenant."  
  
"Initiate activation sequence," B'Elanna said.  
  
Carey responded, "Transwarp coil on line."  
  
"Zornon cloak stable," the holographic Harry reported.  
  
She nodded; so far, so good. "Engage temporal stabilizer on my mark. Mark."  
  
Carey reached for a different part of his console. "Engaged and functional."  
  
"Transwarp drive is ready, Captain," B'Elanna said.  
  
Even though the Captain was looking away from her, B'Elanna could picture her hopeful smile. "You heard her Mr. Paris. Engage warp engines and go to transwarp at your discretion."  
  
"Aye, Captain." Tom's body tensed with concentration. "Warp 9. 9.25. 9.3. 9.6. Threshold reached; switching to transwarp drive...now."  
  
This was it. B'Elanna sucked in her breath and held it, waiting. And she waited. And waited.  
  
None of the holograms moved, not so much as a blink or a muscle twitch. Tom's hand was frozen over his console; Chakotay was caught with his hand in the air, as if he were giving a benediction. The Captain was half-sitting, half-standing on the edge of her chair. It was as if time had stopped.  
  
"Damn!" B'Elanna brought her fist down on the station. "Computer, end program."  
  
The bridge and everyone except Carey shimmered and faded back into the mundane grid of the un-programmed room. He waited several seconds before speaking. "That ... was an improvement."  
  
"An improvement?" Frustrated and angry, she took a deep breath and tried to count to ten. She made it to five. "It didn't work, Joe. Borg coils, Zornon cloaks and Federation equipment - it's _mok'tah._ It just doesn't match. Exactly what improvement do you see in that?"  
  
"Well, let's see. The first prototype was so ineffective, we couldn't tell in the Lab that we'd hit warp 10 with no protection from the temporal effects of transwarp. Not good. The second one caused the port nacelle to race off in one direction and the starboard in another. Also not good. The last one blew up the warp core and everything else within fifty kilometers." He paused, then grinned. "At least this time, we got out of the Lab and we're still alive. I call that progress."  
  
She almost laughed from sheer frustration. "We're alive. Stuck like a beetle in amber in some kind of time pocket, but alive."  
  
"Come on, Lieutenant - remember the Human proverb - 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again."  
  
"Right. Doesn't mean we have to enjoy it." She rubbed her belly; the baby wasn't any happier about the result than she was. "Download the transcript and meet me in the Engineering Lab. Let's try to figure out what went wrong this time." She sighed. "I just hope Tom is having a better day than I am."  
  
***  
  
Thirty light years away, an ancient shuttlecraft shimmied and creaked, then screamed a sound like metal ripping itself apart. A section of the plating fell off the bulkhead and crashed to the deck, clattering even louder than the wheezing engines.  
  
"Something's wrong, Ramon."  
  
Ramon Hernandez reached across the distance between the pilot's seat and the second chair and took the hand of the woman sitting there. She was too pale, he thought, and her delicate skin shone with perspiration. Injured and ill, she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen or imagined. "Don't worry, Lynella. Trust me."  
  
She smiled ruefully, and brushed one sweat-clotted strand of strawberry blonde hair from her face. "Oh, I trust you. It's this miserable excuse for a ship you took that worries me. If it's this bad now, what will happen when we're in real trouble?"  
  
"It's not that bad."  
  
"Oh. Then the warp engines are supposed to make that noise?"  
  
Before he could answer, the engines burped twice and the sound stopped. Ramon glanced down at his panel and cursed silently. Warp engines weren't supposed to make any noise except a soothing hum, but on this wretched ship the belching noise meant they were working. Quiet humming meant they were down.  
  
He let go of her hand and stood. "This will just take a minute."  
  
Lynella leaned back in her chair and sighed. "My grandmother was right. A bad deed always comes back to slap you in the face."  
  
"Your grandmother never had to run for her life across the Delta Quadrant," he said, frowning at the engines. He couldn't understand why they weren't working; everything looked right, or at least as right as it got on this tub. Time for a little percussive therapy, he decided, and kicked the base of the control panel as hard as he could.  
  
With a cough and a hiccup, the engines wheezed to life.  
  
He returned to the cockpit and took his seat. From the corner of his eye, he saw her watching him with amusement. "What?" he asked.  
  
"You amaze me."  
  
His heart turned over in his chest, as if he were a schoolboy on his first date. "I told you, I'll get you to a safe place."  
  
"I believe you." Her green eyes were warm with affection.  
  
Something new began to beep, and for an instant, he couldn't locate the source. This rat trap of a ship was so poorly designed that nothing was where it ought to be. "Next time," he muttered to himself, "I'm going to steal the best damn ship I can get my hands on." Then he realized that the beeping came from the communications panel. "Someone is hailing us."  
  
Lynella lost even more color. "Who -- who are they?"  
  
"Let's see."  
  
"Unidentified ship, this is Lt. Tom Paris of the _Delta Flyer_. Do you require assistance?"  
  
A slow smile spread across Ramon's face. "Oh, baby, this is our lucky day." He hit the comm control to respond. "Lt. Paris, this is Ramon Hernandez. Remember me?"  
  
"Hernandez? From the _Malik Ohn_?"  
  
Ramon winked at Lynella. "The same. And yes, I could use some help. My companion needs medical assistance."  
  
Beside him, Lynella stirred. "Ramon-"  
  
"You do. And the _Delta Flyer_ has an excellent medical station. Could you beam the two of us over, Lieutenant? This old crate hasn't got much left in it."  
  
"No problem. Stand by for transport."  
  
He leaned across the cockpit and grasped Lynella's hand. "Don't worry. This is perfect, you'll see." He was still holding her hand when the transporter beam caught them.  
  
They materialized in the aft cabin of the Delta Flyer, with Lt. Paris waiting for them. "Hello again," the Lieutenant said.  
  
Before Ramon could answer, Lynella's knees buckled and both men reached to support her. "I'm sorry," she said weakly. "So silly."  
  
"I know lots of people who react that way to transporters," Paris said soothingly and led them to the biobed. "Let's get you right over here." He looked over her head to Ramon and mouthed, 'What happened?'  
  
"Lynella isn't feeling well." He turned around, studying the details of the aft cabin. "Not as crowded this trip."  
  
Paris smiled. "That's right, we had a full house the last time you were here. This is just an ordinary away mission. Three of us fit a lot better." He helped Lynella lie down and reached for the medical tricorder. "I'm a medic," he explained to her. "I'd like to examine you."  
  
"Please," Ramon said quickly. He stepped back from the bed, moving closer to the replicator and the tool he had spotted. While Paris was concentrating on his task, Ramon closed his hand around an EPS spanner. It was more than ten centimeters long and satisfyingly heavy in his grasp.  
  
Paris ran the tricorder over her body, concentrating on the readings. "Your temperature seems high," he said to her. "And so does your blood pressure. Of course, I don't know what's normal for you yet, but since feel unwell, you're probably running a fever." He leaned forward, trying to get a different angle for the hand-held sensor.  
  
As Paris bent over his patient Ramon raised the spanner over his head and brought it down heavily on the skull of the taller man. He heard a sickening thud as Paris dropped senselessly across Lynella, pinning her beneath him.  
  
She gasped, but Ramon ignored her distress. As he hauled the inert form off her, he snatched up Paris's phaser. The younger man was heavier than Ramon anticipated, and he lost his grip. Paris fell to the floor, knocking over a medical tray from a nearby console.  
  
Too much noise, he thought at the clatter of the instruments on the deck.  
  
"Ramon -" Lynella began in protest, but he cut her off.  
  
"Stay right there," he said, switching the phaser setting to 'kill.' Standing beside the unconscious officer, he pointed the weapon at his chest and waited.  
  
It didn't take long. In only moments, a young Bajoran woman came from the forward cabin, saying, "Is everything all right, Lieutenant?" She froze when she saw Ramon and the phaser he pointed at Paris's crumpled form.  
  
"Put your weapon down on the deck and kick it over here," he said. "Do it now, or I'll kill him."  
  
The young woman seemed astonished. "But - but why? We were helping you."  
  
"Do it. And don't say anything else."  
  
She looked from him to Paris and back to him. Slowly, she removed her weapon and placed it on the deck.  
  
"Stand up and kick it over here."  
  
After another brief hesitation, she complied. Without moving the phaser pointed at Paris, he squatted down and picked it up. It was set on stun, he saw. He left it there and pointed it at her. "Who else is up front?"  
  
"No one."  
  
"Don't play games, little girl. Paris said there were three of you."  
  
"You misunderstood. There's no one else." She spoke rapidly, words tumbling out. "Are you taking the ship? Are you going to kill me, too?"  
  
"Yes. And no." He fired the phaser set on stun, and she crumpled to the ground.  
  
"Ramon, what are you doing?" Lynella shouted at him. She was standing up, clinging to the side of the bed for support.  
  
"Trust me." He heard nothing, but he was certain there was someone else there. And that someone had to be aware that something was going on; he or she would be armed and ready. He tried to recall the configuration of the forward cabin and realized that there was no place for anyone to hide.  
  
There was no time for hesitation. He ran into the other cabin with both phasers ready. He barely saw the Vulcan seated in the pilot's seat, one hand holding a phaser and the other still dancing on the controls. He dove for the deck, firing at the same moment as the other.  
  
The Vulcan toppled forward, unconscious. His shot went above Ramon's head and dissipated against the bulkhead.  
  
Ramon stood, breathing heavily. He had fired on Starfleet officers and he had taken a Starfleet ship. If he had harbored any hopes of going home again, he had just killed them.  
  
Shoving that thought aside, he grabbed the Vulcan by the arms and began to pull him toward the transporter.  



	2. Act 1

  
**Act 1**  
  
"We're being hailed," Harry Kim announced. Frowning, he added, "That's odd. It's not from the _Flyer_ but they're using the _Flyer's_ identification code."  
  
Captain Janeway frowned. "Let's have it, Lieutenant."  
  
The view screen filled with the face of Tal Celes, surrounded by cramped and unfamiliar equipment. Her hair was disheveled and her face streaked with grime. " _Voyager_ , thank goodness."  
  
Kathryn Janeway rose, shocked. "Celes?"  
  
"Captain, you need to beam Lt. Paris to Sickbay, he's been badly hurt."  
  
She signaled Harry and watched as Tal turned her head to check behind her. After the beam-out she turned back to the screen. "These engines are dead, Captain. Ensign Vorik is literally holding things together with his bare hands. Can you tractor us aboard?"  
  
"Commander Tuvok is taking care of it. What happened, Tal?"  
  
"We were hijacked." The young Bajoran looked disgusted. "It was the man who helped you on that Cardassian ship."  
  
"Ramon Hernandez?" Janeway asked, stunned.  
  
"I think that was his name. Lt. Paris recognized him. He said his ship was falling apart." Pausing, she smiled lopsidedly. "He was telling the truth about that, at least. He said his companion was ill. Lt. Paris ordered them beamed to the aft section so he could treat her. Vorik and I were forward when he attacked Mr. Paris and after that..." she bit her lower lip. "He stunned us both, then he transported us to this ship. He didn't even leave us a medikit, Captain. We did the best we could for Mr. Paris, but he hasn't regained consciousness, and I'm afraid he's hurt badly."  
  
The Captain felt a bubble of rage begin to form. "You did a good job. We'll take it from here. Did Hernandez give you any reasons?"  
  
"Nothing," she said. "He didn't even seem worried about Mr. Paris." She brightened. "You should be able to track him easily, though. Before he was phasered, Ensign Vorik opened the ion dampeners by .25 microns."  
  
"A trail of breadcrumbs," Chakotay said. "Good thinking."  
  
"Mr. Kim, find those breadcrumbs. I am not about to lose the _Delta Flyer_." She slammed a control. "Janeway to Sickbay."  
  
"I'm rather busy, Captain," the EMH responded, sounding distracted.  
  
"So am I. I need a report, Doctor."  
  
"I don't have any details yet. He's critical. Give me ten minutes."  
  
The bridge was quiet as Janeway rose and turned to her first officer. "You and Tuvok should begin the debriefing as soon as Tal and Vorik are on board. I'll join you shortly."  
  
"You aren't staying for the chase?"  
  
"I'll be back. But first, I have to go to Engineering and tell B'Elanna."  
  
***  
  
B'Elanna sat on the only chair in the Engineering Lab and rubbed her aching back as she listened to Icheb and Carey argue over the analysis of the test on the holodeck. "The initializing sequence must be incorrect," Icheb said. "If the stabilizer comes on line first, it overrides the transwarp command and affects temporal placement. The freezing effect was clearly an analogue to a major destabilization in time."  
  
"But the stabilizer has to be operational when transwarp initiates or it can't buffer the gel packs from the nanoprobes," Carey said, sounding frustrated. "But when we brought them on line simultaneously, they seemed to negate one another. I thought bringing the cloak up would counter that, but it didn't work."  
  
"But why?" B'Elanna asked. "Each component works fine individually. Why does the system fail?"  
  
The door to the Engineering Lab opened, and Captain Janeway entered. B'Elanna stood up, surprised and instantly concerned. The Captain's expression was grave, and since she rarely made unannounced visits to the Lab during her duty shift, something was wrong.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt," she said, and turned to Carey and Icheb. "Please excuse B'Elanna and me for a few moments."  
  
Carey nodded, and the two left without a word. B'Elanna felt a lump rise in her throat. "What's happened?" she asked.  
  
"The away mission ran into some trouble," the Captain said, so carefully that B'Elanna knew what was coming next. "Tom has been hurt. He's in Sickbay now."  
  
"How bad is it?" she asked quietly.  
  
"I don't know. He's been unconscious for two days, but that's all I know. The Doctor is examining him now. Come on. We'll go find out. I'll tell you what happened on the way."  
  
***  
  
By the time Kathryn and B'Elanna arrived in Sickbay, the Doctor had already summoned Sam Wildman and Trish Gallagher to assist him. That, Kathryn realized, was not a good sign. After Tom, they were the two most knowledgeable and experienced medical assistants on board. If he called for both of them to deal with one patient, that patient was in bad shape.  
  
B'Elanna realized it too, because she skidded to a halt when she saw the three medics hovering over the biobed. "Oh," she said. "Oh."  
  
Sam saw them and, after saying something quietly to the Doctor, came over. "It's a closed head injury. If it had been treated immediately, it wouldn't be serious, but -"  
  
"But it wasn't treated and that was two days ago." B'Elanna was composed, even though her eyes never strayed from the biobed. "Is he going to die?"  
  
"Not if the Doctor can help it." Samantha smiled reassuringly. "We're prepping for surgery now."  
  
B'Elanna reached blindly for Kathryn's hand and squeezed it. Sam didn't need to tell her that surgery was rare in this age of advanced medical equipment and technique. "What kind of surgery?"  
  
"He has a depressed skull fracture. Ordinarily, an osteoregenerator could correct it, but because of the time involved, it has to be surgically elevated. Once the operation is done, we have to remove some bone chips and evacuate the intercranial hematoma -- the blood that has collected in the brain - but that can be done with the medical transporter. They're causing pressure, and that pressure has damaged tissue and neural pathways." Sam bit her lip. "Afterwards, the doctor plans to keep him unconscious for at least 48 hours for regeneration. We won't know until then how successful we've been in repairing all the damage."  
  
B'Elanna's throat constricted, trying to swallow but it was suddenly too tight and too dry. "Can I see him?"  
  
"I'll ask the Doctor." Samantha patted her shoulder reassuringly, and returned to the sterile field.  
  
"I'm sure it will be all right, B'Elanna," Kathryn said, looking at her with concern. She had expected anger or fear or both from her volatile engineer, but instead B'Elanna was almost unnaturally calm.  
  
"Yes," B'Elanna said distantly. "It has to be."  
  
Samantha hurried back over. "I'm sorry, B'Elanna. I'll call you as soon as we're finished. You can see him then."  
  
For a moment, B'Elanna simply stared at her. Then she said, "All right," and turned and walked out.  
  
Kathryn paused only long enough to tell Samantha, "I want to know the instant the surgery is finished."  
  
She found B'Elanna waiting in the corridor. "Why don't you call it a day?" she suggested. "I know your thoughts won't be on the engines."  
  
"No!" B'Elanna said harshly. Then she remembered to whom she was speaking. "I'm sorry, Captain. I'm not good at waiting. I need to keep busy."  
  
Kathryn studied her closely, looking for signs of fatigue or suppressed emotion and saw none. "All right," she said slowly. "Keep me posted."  
  
"I will." She started to leave, then stopped. "Thank you for telling me yourself, Captain. I appreciate it."  
  
***  
  
Kathryn sat at the desk in her ready room, staring at the computer monitor. She had Starfleet's records on Ramon Hernandez on the screen. The picture showed a man of twenty-eight years old, young for the rank of Lieutenant Commander, with jet black hair and just the slightest hint of plumpness in his face. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but she thought there was a hint of an idealistic gleam in his eyes. Thirty-five years in the Delta Quadrant had turned the thick hair iron gray, honed the plumpness into wiry strength, and burned the idealism away.  
  
The door chime sounded and Chakotay came in. "We've picked up the trail," he said as he sat opposite her. "Harry found Vorik's bread crumbs a few minutes ago."  
  
"Any estimate on when we'll catch up to him?"  
  
"It depends on how long he stays at maximum speed. We're at warp 8 now. If the _Flyer_ continues at warp 6, we'll meet him in a day and a half."  
  
She swung the monitor around. "Recognize him?"  
  
Chakotay studied the picture, then frowned. "I wouldn't, if I didn't know better. This quadrant has changed him."  
  
"Let's be blunt. Living with the Cardassians changed him." She shook her head. "He was a promising young officer, Chakotay. One of the rising stars of Intelligence. His father was a regional director of Federation Security, his mother a hospice physician. At the time he disappeared, he was engaged to marry his mother's protégée, a physician at that same hospice."  
  
"Sounds like a model officer with a strong ethical background."  
  
"And now this model officer is stealing shuttles and assaulting my officers." She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. "Why do I feel so betrayed?"  
  
"You liked him," Chakotay replied. "He was a link to your past. He helped rescue you, and you offered him a place with us. And..." he let the sentence die.  
  
Tilting her head, she waited for him to finish. When he didn't, she said, "Out with it. Since when do you not tell me what you're thinking?"  
  
"And his history is similar to yours." As her eyebrows lifted, he went on, "Raised in a family with a strong sense of duty and ethics, a model Starfleet officer, engaged to be married -- and then pulled into this quadrant."  
  
"There but for the grace of God go I?" She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Perhaps. Perhaps it requires shedding every scruple and ethic to survive thirty-five years as a Cardassian prisoner. I like to think I'd have managed it differently."  
  
He smiled. "Oh, you would have. I've got no doubt that you would have led a mutiny and taken command of the _Malik Ohn_ years ago."  
  
Her answering smile was brief. "When we catch him, he's got to go to the brig. And then what? Do we keep him locked up until we make it home? Do we dump him on a planet someplace?" Her expression and her mood darkened. "And I don't even want to consider the ramifications if Tom doesn't make it."  
  
"If Paris doesn't make it, I think you'll have to leave him someplace." Chakotay was unusually somber. "It might not be safe for him here."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
He shrugged. "Tom has a lot of friends on this ship, and so does B'Elanna. The temptation for revenge could be strong."  
  
Much as she wanted to protest, she understood the reality of the situation. Tom was no longer the outcast he had been at the beginning of _Voyager_ 's journey; he was part of the family. And family ties were not violated lightly, even in the enlightened 24th century. Veering away from that line of thought, she said, "I want to find him, Chakotay. I want to know why he didn't just come to us for help. He had to know we'd have given it to him. Why didn't he just ask?"  
  
"I don't know. But I have a feeling we may not like the answer."  
  
***  
  
Ramon flipped a toggle on the pilot's console and grinned. Over the years he'd become adept at learning alien technology -- and after thirty-five years in the Delta Quadrant, Federation technology was alien to him -- but whoever had designed the _Flyer_ had a fine appreciation for the relationship between pilot and ship. The switches and toggles let him literally feel the _Flyer_ 's reaction to commands, which had helped him figure out the strange controls quickly. With the ship on autopilot, he slipped out of the seat and headed to the aft cabin.  
  
Lynella lay on the biobed, her eyes closed. Quietly, he checked the readings on the monitors. He frowned and picked up the medical tricorder. As he ran the scanner over her, Lynella opened her eyes and he felt a tiny shiver of fear. Her normally crystalline green eyes were dull and glassy. "How do you feel?" he asked, hiding his concern.  
  
"Not so good," she said, and his concern ballooned to full-fledged worry. She never complained, never acknowledged how ill she was. She must be bad indeed to admit it now. "But it's all right, Ramon. I'm free. That's all that matters." She smiled weakly, and her eyes closed again. The monitors showed that she was asleep.  
  
"No," he said softly, his voice cracking. "That's not all." He checked her medication levels, returned the medical scanner, and slipped back to the main cabin.  
  
Sliding into the pilot's seat, he restored manual control. For a long moment he sat without moving, simply staring at the streaks of stars passing by at warp speed. He couldn't even seem to muster up a coherent thought as he looked out at blur of space; he seemed capable only of feeling, and in the jumble of emotions within him, the one that stood out was fear. But for the first time in a very long time, it wasn't fear for his own fate.  
  
"All right, Captain Janeway," he said to no one in particular. "Let's see how well Federation justice holds up in the Delta Quadrant." With a quick, angry movement, he turned the ship about.  
  
***  
  
On the Cardassian warship _Malik Ohn,_ Gul Datik sat with his back to the wall, facing the only door to the small space that served as his office, and held a disruptor set to kill in his lap. "Come in," he said.  
  
"It's just me," his chief of Sciences said as he entered. "You can put the disruptor down."  
  
"Sit down, Ghemot." He changed the setting on the weapon back to stun and laid it on his desk. Ghemot had served with him for nearly fifty years; they had been friends long before the Caretaker pulled their ship to the Delta Quadrant. "It's getting tiresome, you know. Wondering which of them is going to make a move, and when."  
  
"It's your own fault. You never should have let that Federation ship get away without a fight." His eyes narrowed slightly. "They think you're getting soft."  
  
"And you? Do you think I'm ... softening?"  
  
Ghemot laughed briefly. "Of course not. I have to admit, I don't understand why you did it. But then, I never understood half the things you did. You always seem to have your own agenda."  
  
The Gul smiled slightly. "Tell me, my friend, have you given up on seeing your family again?"  
  
"Yes," Ghemot said bluntly.  
  
"I'm sorry for that. I still have hopes we will make it back. Seeing Janeway's daughter reminded me of my own family. And ... it reminded me of the way we used to be, you and I and the others from the old days. We had such ideals."  
  
"You had ideals. I had hopes of promotion." He shook his head. "You're fortunate, you know, that the Starfleet officer killed Rekela. If she had survived, she'd have organized a mutiny and your assassination -- and probably mine - months ago."  
  
"Yes, he did me a favor." He had pondered the irony of it many times. Without Rekela, the dissident factions on the ship had splintered into disorganized and viciously competitive groups. For weeks after the incident, one faction would actually warn Datik of plots against him hatched by another faction, just for the satisfaction of watching the failure and subsequent punishment of their rivals. The sheer stupidity of it had both astonished and amused him. "It's odd, to be indebted to a Starfleet officer and the Borg for my life."  
  
This time, Ghemot laughed heartily. "Yes, you have to be the luckiest pirate in space. Who else could have a ship caught in the middle of a Borg civil war and come out of it stronger than before?"  
  
The conflict between the Borg had boiled into the Corish Crescent not long after the _Malik Ohn's_ encounter with _Voyager_ , and after witnessing a sphere and a cube annihilate one another, his crew had united in one request to him - save the ship. He had promptly issued an order to leave the Crescent to the Borg and move forward, seeking a new safe haven. The ship was in unfamiliar territory for the first time in over a decade. "Yes, for now they appreciate the value of experience and age. Sooner or later, though, one of the young bloods will be restless enough to make another try. And eventually one of them will have sufficient guile -- and balls - to succeed."  
  
"Keep an eye on Kheyint."  
  
Kheyint. The warning was unnecessary; Datik knew the danger he faced from the helmsman of the _Malik Ohn_ , one of the eager youngbloods. Born to the ship's original Engineer and a Kazon slave the first year they were in the Delta Quadrant, it was, in Datik's opinion, fortunate that the young man's mixed heritage was evident only in the coarse and unruly hair that he kept clipped short. It was unfortunate that he was the source of a whispering campaign that questioned Datik's abilities. "I know. Is that what you came here to tell me?"  
  
"That, and that we've got a report back from our scout ship. They picked up word about the traitor, Hernandez."  
  
"Oh?" Until recently, he has assumed that Hernandez had remained with Janeway on her ship; any sensible being would have. But last month they had learned differently, and many in the crew were eager to track him down. Hernandez had become the scapegoat for the death of Rekela and the perceived defeat of the ship at the hands of the Federation. If he could capture Hernandez and make an example of him, he might be able to regain some support among the younger crew. "Where?"  
  
"He stole a shuttle from a repair yard on a planet about 10 light years from here." He paused, obviously preparing to deliver a message of great significance. "They said he had a woman with him. From the description, she was a Skan-Filar."  
  
Datik's eyes flashed. "He found Lynella."  
  
Ghemot nodded. "Apparently."  
  
"Which means he is headed for her homeworld." He thought for a moment. "How far are we from the Skan-Filar system?"  
  
"About 24 light years. We can easily catch up to him."  
  
For the first time in months, Datik smiled and meant it. "Then let us catch him, my friend." He placed the phaser in its case on his hip and rose. "Let us catch him."  
  



	3. Act 2

**Act 2**  
  
B'Elanna looked down at Tom's face, relaxed in sleep. She had seen that expression many times in the past few years, waking in the night to find him beside her. If it weren't for the medical arch covering his torso, she could almost forget that he had been injured so badly.  
  
"Hey, Flyboy," she said softly, brushing the back of her fingers along his cheek. "Get your rest now. When this baby comes, you've got to take your share of midnight feedings."  
  
There was no response. She felt disappointed, even though she knew better than to expect anything else. Somehow, she thought her voice might stir a reaction, even though he was in an induced coma. After a moment she straightened and turned away.  
  
The Doctor was waiting for her near his office, and she said to him, "So? Is he going to be all right?"  
  
He raised his right index finger and started to speak, and stopped. After a few seconds he said, "Why don't we go into my office, so you can sit down."  
  
"No," she said. "I don't want to sit down. I want to know about Tom. He's going to make it, isn't he?"  
  
"Yes, of course he is." The Doctor seemed almost affronted that she would even question that. "His life is in no danger."  
  
"Why do I hear the word 'but' coming?"  
  
He sighed. "Much of the brain is still a mystery to us, Lieutenant. We can identify tissues and neural pathways and receptors but treatment that works for one individual doesn't for another."  
  
B'Elanna stared at him. "Just tell me, Doctor. Don't drag it out."  
  
"There are several areas of Tom's brain that were deprived of blood, and therefore oxygen, while he was on that shuttle. I've repaired the vascular damage and begun the tissue regeneration process, but there's no way to predict whether regeneration will be successful. It depends on the individual."  
  
"What does that mean?" She felt the cold hand of fear on her heart. "If the regeneration doesn't work, what does it mean?"  
  
"The damage was almost entirely in the cerebellum, although there is some in the occipital lobe. If it doesn't heal properly, Tom may have difficulty with movement and balance, or with his vision." His eyes were almost sorrowful.  
  
She caught her breath, unable to inhale for several seconds. "He couldn't fly any more. He couldn't be a pilot."  
  
"Don't assume the worst," he said quickly. "He may regenerate completely. He's young, he's strong and --" he smiled slightly -- "he's highly motivated to get better. That goes a long way in convincing the body to repair itself. And we can still try Icheb's healing nanoprobes. They helped Ensign Gilmore, they may help Tom, too."  
  
"I forgot about those. Why aren't you using them now?" Her voice began to rise again. "Why are you wasting time?"  
  
"The nanoprobes are a treatment of last resort," he said. "It's better for the patient if the body can heal itself. And we've only used the nanoprobes for restoring damaged nerves and neural connections. Tom's injuries are .. more extensive than that. I can't be certain they will work any better than traditional regeneration."  
  
B'Elanna swallowed, but her throat remained dry and constricted. "Thank you, Doctor." She turned, not looking in Tom's direction, and started to leave.  
  
"B'Elanna." She turned and looked at him. "You mustn't lose hope. Tom's done very well so far. Hold on to that."  
  
She nodded once, and walked out.  
  
***  
  
The craft that Vorik and Tal had managed to bring back to _Voyager_ barely deserved to be called a ship, B'Elanna thought, as she circled about. It was cramped and cluttered, with panels exposed and conduits hanging loose. She saw a dark stain on the deck and looked away, afraid it was from Tom's blood and not wanting to think about it.  
  
"I saw some junk during my Maquis days," she said aloud, "but this tops anything. How the hell does this thing fly?"  
  
She ran a hand over a bulkhead panel and it clattered to the deck, causing her to jump back to avoid a smashed toe. Then she looked more closely at the newly revealed area. She was long accustomed to cobbling together pieces and parts from different sources but this - this was a patchwork of equipment that clearly was never intended to work together. "That's incredible," she said softly. "Nothing matches. Nothing."  
  
"Talking to yourself?"  
  
At the sound of Chakotay's voice, she looked up. "Look at this mish-mash. I've never seen anything like it."  
  
He came and looked over her shoulder, but only for an instant. "You know, it wouldn't hurt you to get off your feet for a while."  
  
"I'm all right." She cocked her head, studying an interface between an EPS relay and what seemed to be a plasma conduit. "Look at that. It shouldn't work. That simply shouldn't work."  
  
"B'Elanna. When was the last time you ate anything?"  
  
"I don't know. Lunch, I guess." That patchwork interface was intriguing. "Hand me a ratchet, will you?"  
  
"I checked with Neelix and Sarexa. You haven't been in the mess hall all day. You won't do Tom or your daughter any good if you make yourself sick."  
  
As if in agreement with him, the baby suddenly kicked, hard, and B'Elanna straightened and blinked. "I just need to keep busy, that's all. I just need to be busy."  
  
He did something he hadn't done since their Maquis days -- he put an arm around her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I understand. We're all worried. But Tom's too stubborn to give in. He's going to be fine."  
  
"You don't understand," she said, and to her horror felt her eyes fill with tears. She blinked them back furiously. "He may not be the same. He may not be able to fly again. That will kill him, Chakotay. Not physically, but it will kill his spirit." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm so afraid for him."  
  
Then the tears welled up again and she pulled away, turning so he wouldn't see them. "It's a funny thing. I almost broke it off with him before we got married. I was afraid we were a bad match. Now I can't imagine being with anyone else. I want him back. I want him back, just the same as he was when he left on the _Flyer_."  
  
He rubbed a hand across her back lightly, seeming to realize that was all the contact she could bear at the moment. "Come on. Let's get you something to eat. If Sarexa's casserole doesn't look good, I'll spring for the replicator rations."  
  
When she felt her emotions were under control, she nodded. "Thanks. I guess I am hungry after all." She grinned. "But then I'm coming back here. I really do want to understand how this ... this crate manages to work."  
  
***  
  
"There it is," Harry said. His face was set in harder lines than usual. "The _Flyer_ is within short-range sensors."  
  
"Hold us at this distance, Mr. Culhane." As Tom's temporary alpha shift replacement responded quietly, the Captain continued, "I don't know why he turned around, but we aren't going to trust him. Tuvok, I want control of our shuttle."  
  
"Understood. Transmitting the command codes now."  
  
"The _Flyer_ is hailing," Harry reported. "It's Hernandez."  
  
"Let him wait for a minute," Janeway said. "Tuvok?"  
  
"We have control. I have disabled weapons and the warp drive."  
  
"Then take us in to transporter range, and then beam anyone on board directly to the brig. Then scan the ship and if it seems safe, send a pilot over to bring her in. I don't want to use the tractor if we don't have to." Her voice sounded harsh even to herself, but she didn't care. "All right, Mr. Kim, let's have that message."  
  
The viewscreen filled with the image of Ramon Hernandez. He looked much the same as he had when he left _Voyager_ a few months earlier, except that he appeared to be exhausted. "Captain Janeway," he said, acknowledging her with a nod. "I realize you're about to transport me to your brig. But my companion is very ill. That's why I turned around. She needs more help than I can give her. Please, beam her to Sickbay."  
  
"Is she contagious?" Chakotay asked quickly.  
  
He shook his head. "No. Put her in a quarantine field until your doctor confirms that. Please, Captain. I think she's dying."  
  
Janeway looked over to Harry Kim with an unspoken question. He understood, scanned the _Flyer_ and replied, "The other life form does appear to be in the biobed."  
  
"All right." It was consistent with the story he had told Tal and Vorik. Kathryn caught Hernandez's eye and held his gaze. "Have the Doctor erect a quarantine field and send a security detail to Sickbay. Use maximum biofilters on the transporter. Mr. Hernandez will go directly to the brig."  
  
On the screen, his shoulders slumped. "Thank you," he said.  
  
"Don't thank me." She rose. "You assaulted a senior officer and stole a shuttlecraft. You have a great deal to answer for, Mr. Hernandez." With a signal to Harry to begin, she turned on her heel and walked off the bridge, not bothering to watch as the transporter beam caught him.  
  
***  
  
Hernandez was safely behind the forcefield of the brig before she arrived. Gennaro and Thompson stood at sentry outside the door, and Jackson was at the main security station. Before he moved back, Kathryn noted, Jackson glared at Hernandez in a manner that was too cold to be a simple warning. Chakotay had been right about the temptation for revenge. She couldn't blame Jackson as long it remained just a temptation, she thought. There was no excuse for what Hernandez had done to Paris.  
  
The prisoner was sitting on the bunk, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. Kathryn studied him and felt her anger building. Nothing about his body language suggested that he felt either remorse of guilt for his actions. "Why," she snapped, as if it were a command.  
  
He smiled. "Does it really matter?"  
  
She glared at him, waiting. At first he tried meeting her gaze, but in the end he let his drop first. "Do you remember why I left _Voyager_?"  
  
"You said you wanted to find a woman. She'd been captured by the _Malik Ohn_ and then sold as a slave. Is that the woman in Sickbay?"  
  
He nodded. "Her name is Lynella. She's from a world that's in the same general direction you're heading, but about two months off your course."  
  
"You told me she was Norcadian."  
  
"I know. I don't know why I told you that, except that the truth is more complicated and I didn't want to get into it then."  
  
She frowned. "Get into it now, Mr. Hernandez."  
  
He didn't answer immediately, and she began to think he wasn't going to. Then he stood and began to pace in front of the bunk. "Lynella's people, the Skan-Filar, have had warp technology for less than twenty-five years. Her ship was on their people's maiden manned deep-space mission when they ran into the _Malik Ohn_. They'd never met an alien species before -- inhabited planets are pretty rare in that part of space. It was just bad luck that they made their very first First Contact with a Cardassian pirate ship."  
  
"That is unfortunate, but I still don't see what it has to do with your actions now."  
  
"You will. They took her and her ship over a year ago. Her shipmates were sold immediately, but Datik and Rekela both wanted her and they kept her on board until just a few weeks before we encountered you." He paused, and cocked his head toward her. "I don't have to tell you what it was like for her."  
  
"No. You don't." As a prisoner of the Cardassians herself, she had experienced torture and physical abuse, and the files were replete with records of sexual and psychological abuse.  
  
"You haven't met her yet, but Lynella is special. She has a kind of luminosity about her. She looks like she's made from spun glass, but she's the strongest person I've ever known. They both wanted to break her, to dim that inner light, but they never could."  
  
It was a tragic story, but as much compassion as she might feel for Lynella, it still did not explain the assault on Tom. "That is truly unfortunate, but --"  
  
"She fought them. She believes -- her people believe -- that the spirit is more important than the body. As long as she didn't give in, she could tell herself that her spirit remained free no matter what happened to her physically. Datik and Rekela, they never understood this. They thought that if they inflicted enough pain, she would eventually give up. When they realized she never would, they sold her.  
  
"She was sick even then," he went on quickly. "They wouldn't let me really treat her, just the cuts and the bruises, so she wouldn't look too damaged. The infections had already taken hold." He looked away, then back to Kathryn. "That's why I had to find her, you see. She was sold to be a concubine in a seraglio. I knew she'd still be fighting, and that she'd probably still be sick."  
  
Kathryn shook her head. "Why didn't you ask my help then?"  
  
He smiled sardonically. "Oh, sure. Ask you to hang around the Corish Crescent to help me kidnap a harem girl in violation of the Prime Directive? Not exactly a Starfleet mission."  
  
She exhaled audibly; he had a point. "Go on. Obviously you found her and were running away. When you encountered the _Flyer_ , why didn't you ask Paris for help?"  
  
"I couldn't take the chance he would do things by the book and bring her back to _Voyager_ ," he said. "I didn't think you would help me. Why should you? I wouldn't, if the situation were reversed."  
  
Before she could respond to that, he went on, "She's dying, Captain. I found her too late. All I wanted was to get her back to her own world in time, so she could at least die with her family, in peace. I needed a better ship and I knew the _Delta Flyer_ was a good one. If I'd been able to keep her alive, we'd still be on our way. But she was worse than I thought. I didn't know how to keep her alive long enough to get her home, even with the equipment on the _Flyer_. I had to take a chance that after you met her, you'd be willing to help her."  
  
Anger bubbled up and she clamped it down firmly. "If you had asked me that three days ago, my helmsman wouldn't be unconscious in Sickbay, your Lynella might have been stabilized and we could be having this conversation in the mess hall instead of the brig."  
  
He froze, his eyes suddenly wide with surprise. "Do you mean you will take her home?"  
  
"I don't know yet. I have to talk with the Doctor and get more information about the location of her homeworld. But I'm going to consider it, Mr. Hernandez. I'm going to consider it. Meanwhile, you consider what you've done to Mr. Paris and this crew. We'll talk about you fate later." She turned and walked away, leaving him staring after her, looking confused.  
  
***  
  
B'Elanna arrived at the brig barely two minutes after the Captain had left, and was relieved to see that Jackson was still on duty. They went back a long way, back to her first days in the Maquis. "Take a break, Jack-o."  
  
He glanced at the prisoner, then looked back to her. "B'Elanna -"  
  
"Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything stupid. I just want to talk to him privately." She managed a smiled. "Five minutes."  
  
He shook his head. "No. I mean, if you're going to need a witness or anything, I should stay. After what he did, well, if he had an accident, no one would shed a tear."  
  
Maquis loyalty, she thought. It still meant something. "Thanks, but it's all right. I really am just going to talk to him."  
  
With a deep frown, he nodded. Then he stared at Hernandez. "I'm just outside the door, you got it? All I need is a reason."  
  
"Thanks." Her eyes fastened on Hernandez, who lay on the bunk with his hands behind his head. She walked to the forcefield, unwittingly occupying the same space the Captain had only minutes before. "Hernandez. Do you remember me?"  
  
His eyes grazed her. "The Engineer. You weren't pregnant then, at least, not so it showed. Hard to forget a Klingon in Starfleet. Sorry, I don't remember your name."  
  
"B'Elanna Torres." She paused. "Tom Paris is my husband."  
  
"Oh." He looked at her again, then closed his eyes. "Is he dead?"  
  
The complete lack of concern in his voice angered her, but she remained outwardly calm, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an emotional show. "No. He's going to live. What we don't know yet is whether or not he'll have any permanent brain damage."  
  
He was silent for a long moment, then swung long legs over the side of the bunk and sat up. "Why are you here, Lieutenant?"  
  
She smiled tightly. "Do you know about Klingon women when they're pregnant? They say we get the ability to see the future. Not all the time, but every now and then, a flash. I just thought you should know, I've seen a bit of your future."  
  
He grinned back at her, but there was no mirth in it. "Even I can see that. Your Captain is going to keep me locked me up for the rest of the trip."  
  
"Yes. But if Tom doesn't recover completely, the trip is going to be shorter for you. The Captain honors Klingon customs, and once my baby is born I will claim the right of vengeance." She leaned in closer, dropping her voice. "Tell me, _verengan Ha'DibaH,_ have you ever seen a _bat'leth_ ? I am very, very good with a _bat'leth_ and I promise you, I will slice your beating heart out of your chest."  
  
To her satisfaction, he paled a little. But his next words startled her. "Are there a lot of Klingons in Starfleet?"  
  
"Not many."  
  
"I believe it. I spent some time on Qo'noS, you know. Klingons and Starfleet sounds _mok'tah_ to me."  
  
He lay down again, but she stood there, frozen. _Mok'tah,_ bad match. The word had been in her mind in one context or another all day.  
  
When she didn't leave immediately, he turned his head toward her. "Look, I didn't mean to hit him that hard. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. But I did it for the same reason you're standing here now -- because someone I care about was hurt."  
  
"Don't compare yourself to me," she said, her hands bunching into fists. "Don't you dare."  
  
He shrugged. "Starfleet and I are pretty much _mok'tah_ now. We're not that different, B'Elanna Torres. The thing is, I've got nothing left to lose. The only bit of me that was worth anything is dying with that woman in Sickbay. Once she's gone, I don't care what you do to me. Claim your vengeance. You won't get much of a fight."  
  
B'Elanna looked into his eyes and knew that he was telling the truth.  
  
***  
  
It was just happenstance that Kathryn stepped onto a lift occupied by Megan Delaney, the head of Astrometics/Stellar Cartography since Seven's departure. "Deck Five," Kathryn said, then added, "This is fortuitous, Lieutenant. I'd like you to take a PADD with a schematic of this sector to the brig. Ask the prisoner to show you the location of the Skan-Filar homeworld."  
  
"Certainly, Captain." Megan's eyebrows knit together in concentration. "Skan-Filar? I don't believe I've heard that name before."  
  
"Don't worry, you haven't missed a briefing." Kathryn smiled at her reassuringly. "In fact, you've got advance information." The doors opened to Deck Five, and Kathryn stepped out.  
  
Sickbay had only three patients: Jim Morrow, receiving follow up treatment for his back injuries during the Borg assaults, being treated by Trish Gallagher; Tom, still in the induced coma; and the alien woman with the life support arch on full power. The Doctor saw her enter and came over. "How is she?" Kathryn asked.  
  
"Not good, I'm afraid." He was unusually somber. "Her systems are shutting down and so far I can't seem to stop it. She's suffered tremendous abuse and neglect." He hesitated, then added in a voice that throbbed with suppressed rage, "Most of her problems began with repeated sexual abuse -- injuries and infections that were never treated. Whoever did this was barbaric."  
  
Kathryn nodded. "I'm with you there, Doctor. Mr. Hernandez thinks she's dying."  
  
"I'm afraid he's right."  
  
It was so out of character for him to say such a thing that she looked at him sharply. "What?"  
  
"She's dying. If I knew more about her species, I might be able to do something, but so far - I thought she might be related to the Ocampa. She looks a bit like Kes, you see, and she tells me that the word 'ocampia' means 'distant cousin' in her native language. She even says her people live an average of thirty years. She's only fifteen..." his voice trailed off. "But she's not responding to treatment that would have worked for Kes. Unless I can pull the proverbial rabbit out of the hat, she's going to die, and soon."  
  
He looked so utterly miserable that she patted his arm. "You're our resident magician," she assured him. "If anyone can find that rabbit you can. Is she conscious? Can I speak with her?"  
  
"Yes. I think she'd like that."  
  
Kathryn walked over to the bed, and saw immediately that the Doctor had not exaggerated; the woman looked like Kes. No one would ever mistake her for Kes or even Kes's sister, but she had the same delicately pointed ears, peaches-and-cream complexion, and elfin bone structure. Even her hair was a reminder of Kes, or at least, as Kes had been just before she left - blonde and waving to her shoulders. "Hello," Kathryn said, mastering her emotions. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway."  
  
The woman seemed to pull herself to attention even though she was lying in a life support arch. "Captain Janeway. Am I your prisoner?" Her voice was weak and wheezy despite the mechanical assistance.  
  
"Of course not," Kathryn said. "You did nothing wrong. You are our guest."  
  
She relaxed. "I am Astrogator Lynella ep re' Dorasachisheido, but Ramon says that is too much of a mouthful. Please call me Lynella."  
  
"Lynella. Do you know where you are?"  
  
The woman smiled, a genuine smile that warmed the room. "Oh, yes. This is the Federation Starship _Voyager_. You are Ramon's people. Oh, Captain, it is such a relief it is to find people who are good and decent. If it hadn't been for Ramon, and now for you, I would have despaired of finding anything but evil in the universe."  
  
"You had some very bad experiences. I'm sorry. Space exploration can be dangerous, but it is a marvelous adventure."  
  
Lynella's smile widened. "I always believed that. That's why I became an astrogator. There is so much to find, so much to learn. It can't all be bad."  
  
"No. It's not." Kathryn found that she was feeling far more empathy for this young woman than she anticipated.  
  
"Captain, where's Ramon? Is he in trouble?"  
  
"Yes," she said, keeping her voice even. "He is."  
  
"It's my fault. Please don't punish him too severely. He was just trying to help me get home before I die."  
  
"I know. And," she said, deliberating making her tone upbeat, "our Doctor is determined not to let you die, and he's quite good when he puts his mind to something."  
  
The smile faded. "There's nothing he can do, Captain. We know when our time is coming, and mine will be soon."  
  
"Lynella -"  
  
"No, it's all right. I'm free now. If die on your ship, as your guest, then my soul will be free and can find its way home. I am familiar with this part of space." Her mouth trembled a little. "It is a blessing I had stopped hoping for."  
  
Kathryn patted the young woman's shoulder, thinking of John Kelly, the Earth space pioneer whose body they had found in the Delta Quadrant. "If I can take you home, I will," she promised. "I don't know yet if it is possible."  
  
"It really isn't necessary, Captain. It is enough that I die free. If I didn't believe that, I never could have ventured into space. But - I do have one request."  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"I'd like to say goodbye to Ramon."  
  
Kathryn felt trapped. How could she possibly say no? "I'll arrange it," she said.  
  
"Thank you." Lynella closed her eyes, and almost instantly was asleep.  
  
On her way out of Sickbay, Kathryn stopped by the Doctor's office and asked quietly, "How long?"  
  
"There's no telling," he said. "Not long."  
  
"Could you put her in stasis?"  
  
He shook his head. "I don't think so. There's a process going on here I don't understand. Her body is simply turning itself off. It must be inherent in her species, but I've never seen anything like it. The most we can do is make her comfortable."  
  
Nodding, she turned and left, silently cursing the cruelties of fate and the Delta Quadrant.  
  
***  
  
Later, she sat in the briefing room with Chakotay and Tuvok. The wall monitor showed a schematic of the local region of space supplied by Megan. "Stopping by the Skan-Filar homeworld would mean a six week detour, but I'm inclined to think it's important."  
  
Chakotay looked at the data. "What rotten luck. If they had launched their mission toward the Alpha Quadrant instead of back to the heart of the Delta Quadrant, who knows what they would have found."  
  
"Instead they found renegade Cardassians." Kathryn shook her head. "Lynella won't live long enough to get home, but I'd like to return her body to her people. They should know what happened, and that not everyone out here is hostile."  
  
"It seems a purely sentimental gesture," Tuvok said. "It is doubtful that a planet with technology 250 years behind our own could provide any useable equipment or components, and our foodstuffs are adequate for the moment."  
  
"It's not just sentiment," Kathryn said, "although I admit there's a fair amount of that involved. Go talk to her, Tuvok, and tell me that you aren't reminded of John Kelly and Jonathan Archer and Neil Armstrong -- the pioneers who ventured into space when we knew almost nothing about it. Lynella's earned a trip home if we can give it to her. But more than that, I want her people to understand what happened to her ship and crew so they can be better prepared the next time. Most of all, I want to warn them about what's happening with the Borg. They may not pose a threat of destruction any longer, but they are still out there and could cause chaos for a new-warp species."  
  
"And it wouldn't hurt to leave a friend behind," Chakotay added. "We haven't got many in this Quadrant."  
  
Tuvok tilted his head slightly. "Your decision is made, then."  
  
"Yes." Kathryn nodded. "Assuming nothing unexpected happens to make it impractical, we're going to the Skan-Filar system."  
  
"What about Hernandez?"  
  
Her expression darkened. "He stays in the brig until we can schedule a hearing. I don't want to do that until we know the extent of Tom's recovery, so we can file the proper charges. Lynella wants to see him, though, and I promised a visit when the Doctor says she's up to it. Please arrange it at your earliest convenience, Tuvok."  
  
***  
  
"Gul Datik. I think you should see this," the crewman manning the science station said. "Sensors have detected an ion trail at the edge of their range."  
  
Datik walked over slowly. "What is so interesting about an ion trail?"  
  
"It matches the Federation shuttle that escaped us a few months ago."  
  
The usual noise and clatter on the bridge ceased abruptly, and Datik was keenly aware that all eyes were trained on him. He looked at the ion trail, studied its composition and compared it to the data the officer had brought up on the screen. "Yes," he said, trying to sound uninterested. "It could be. The ion concentration is denser, though. It could be a different ship altogether."  
  
"Or the engine could need maintenance," Kheyint said.  
  
The look on the helmsman's face was so dramatic that it was all Datik could do not to laugh out loud. "Perhaps. But if we go chasing that trail, we could lose Hernandez. I would prefer to catch the traitor."  
  
"Hernandez may have returned to his own people," Kheyint pushed. "By following that trail, we might get both the traitor and the Federation ship."  
  
Murmurs of agreement spread around the bridge. Datik looked around, studying each face. A few were uncertain; more were hostile. Finally he reached Ghemot and saw his old friend looking at him with warning.  
  
"Follow the ion trail," Datik said at last. "The Skan-Filar homeworld isn't going anywhere. If this trail turns out to be another worthless Plor scout, you can explain it to the rest of the crew."  
  
"And if it turns out to be the Federation ship?" Kheyint asked. His tone bordered on insubordination, but did not quite cross the line. "Will you let it go -- again?"  
  
All the eyes were focused on him again, and he sighed inwardly. They were fools, he thought, like the fools back home who thought that Cardassia could never lose in war. Sooner or later, there was always someone stronger, someone with a new weapon or new idea. Why didn't they see that there was a time for diplomacy as well as a time for war?  
  
But the expectant, inquiring, demanding eyes were boring in on him, and he needed no warning from Ghemot to know how to answer. "If we find the Federation ship, we take it."  
  



	4. Act 3

**Act 3**  
  
"Hey, Tom," Harry said quietly. The Doctor had assured him that Tom would not be disturbed by his voice, but somehow it felt more appropriate to speak softly. "Just stopped by to see how you're doing."  
  
Tom didn't react at all. Harry hadn't expected him to. "The Doc says you have to sleep for another day, but you better get up then. Neelix expects me to fill in for you in planning the Olympics and he wants me to create an obstacle course for horses. Really. I'm not making that up. It's called dressage. The only thing I know about horses is that they eat hay. You've got to deal with this." He paused again. "Hey, someone - I won't say who - has opened a betting book on when you're going to wake up. If you could just sort of pretend to wake up at 1717 tomorrow, I'll split the winnings with you. I hear the pool's up to a month's rations."  
  
He stopped, wishing he could do something more constructive. "It's late. I'm going to try to get a little sleep. You're missing some interesting times, buddy, but I'll fill you in later. I just wanted to say 'hi.' And that it's going to be okay."  
  
As he turned, he saw B'Elanna standing against the wall, watching him. When he went over to her she said, "Thanks, Starfleet."  
  
She looks tired, he thought. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her complexion was paler than usual. "I meant what I said to him, B'Elanna. He's going to be okay."  
  
Her eyes flew to the bed. "I hope so."  
  
"He's going to be in better shape than you are if you don't get some rest. It's been a long day." He smiled. "Go say goodnight to him and then I'll walk you home."  
  
He waited just outside Sickbay for her to come out. It wasn't a phobia, but he didn't like to spend any time there if he didn't have to. The excruciating pain he had suffered when Species 8472 attacked him was still vivid in his memory, sometimes coloring his dreams. Every so often, just being in Sickbay could trigger a flashback. He'd had to duck out early a couple of times when he had come to visit Marla Gilmore a few weeks earlier.  
  
B'Elanna came out in just a few minutes, and he fell into step beside her. "You know," she said, "You don't need to babysit until after your goddaughter is born."  
  
"Who says I'm babysitting?" he asked. "Maybe I just want some company."  
  
"Right." She looked at him through the corner of her eyes. "From what I hear, you don't have to go looking for company these days."  
  
"Rumors," he said easily. "All rumors. And speaking of which, I hear you've been spending time in that bucket of bolts Vorik and Tal came back in. What's that about?"  
  
Her eyes lit up. "It's fascinating, Harry. Nothing on that ship fits together. It's been pieced together with parts that don't match, and it shouldn't be possible to integrate them, but they work. It's like a jigsaw puzzle that someone forced together and then smoothed out somehow."  
  
He smiled at her enthusiasm. It was good to see; it lessened the impact of the dark circles. "Fascinating. Why do you care?"  
  
She stopped and faced him. "Maybe you can help. We've got the Borg transwarp coil, right? But we can't use it without a temporal stabilizer or else we'll turn into lizards at warp 10."  
  
"Right. And we can't get our hands on a Borg stabilizer."  
  
"Exactly. But I made one, using the same principles that Doc used to create the temporal chamber for Kes a few years ago. It's the same basic idea that he used for the time serum a few months ago."  
  
"You made one already? I am out of the loop." Harry frowned. "Serum and a chamber is one thing. A stabilizer big enough for the whole ship is something else altogether."  
  
"You can look at my specs later. I've asked Starfleet to check them out, too. The problem is, I can't get my stabilizer to integrate with the transwarp coil and the Zornon cloak. There's something about the Borg technology I can't quite match." She was speaking rapidly now, quite excited. "If I can figure out how that ship managed to work, I might be able to figure out -"  
  
"-how to force the coil, the cloak and the stabilizer to integrate." He turned to her, eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yeah," he said slowly. "That could work. It really could work. Come on. Show me this wonder ship. Maybe a fresh eye will help."  
  
***  
  
Ramon Hernandez lay on his bunk, eyes fixed on the bulkhead above him. The mattress was comfortable, the place was clean and the temperature was bearable even if it felt a little cool after thirty-five years on a Cardassian ship. They had brought him dinner, which was actually tasty. He had forgotten how the Federation treated prisoners.  
  
There was a lot he had forgotten, he thought. He had been so young then. So young. He had still believed in things, in right and wrong and good and evil and love and compassion and sacrifice and mercy. Datik and Rekela and the rest of the crew of the _Malik Ohn_ had taught him otherwise. Oh, he still believed in wrong and evil -- and fear, and pain and survival. It was the rest of it he had despaired of long ago.  
  
How had Lynella done it, he wondered. How had she managed to remain unchanged by them? Were all her people that way, or was she special?  
  
Thinking of her made him sit up. "Guard," he called.  
  
The woman in the gold uniform -- he couldn't remember her name - looked up. "Yes?"  
  
"When can I visit Sickbay? The Captain promised."  
  
Dark eyes looked back at him coolly. "The Doctor says the patient is sleeping now, and he doesn't want to wake her. You can see her as soon as he gives the word."  
  
"Hmm." Then he remembered to add, "Thanks." Restless, he lay down on his stomach and looked down at the floor. Something caught his eye, and he looked more closely.  
  
Someone, some time, had scratched little lines in the floor, near the base of the bunk. He ran his fingers over them, feeling the indentations. Must have used a tool of some kind, but what, in the brig? Then he looked over at his dinner tray, still on the floor. The knife. Useless as a weapon, but with patience and persistence, it could scratch the deck plating. He looked more closely. Six groups of five lines each. Thirty days. Someone had once spent thirty days in this brig. He wondered who.  
  
It was because of Lynella, he thought suddenly. The only reason he had helped Janeway and her people months ago was because Lynella had reminded him of things like honor and good and hope. The things he used to believe in. She made him want to believe again.  
  
He tried to remember Graciela, the woman he had once planned to marry. It had been so long, he could no longer picture her face. What he remembered was her hair, gloriously dark, like ebony silk in his hands. And that she had a quiet core of decency that shone through no matter what the challenge. But he couldn't recall the details of a single moment they had spent together; she had become a hazy shadow, like a dream that couldn't survive the harsh light of day.  
  
Lynella was real, though. He thought about the night he had managed to sneak into the tiny cell where Datik had thrown her, bringing a regenerator, painkillers and antibiotics. She had fallen asleep as soon as the pain diminished, and he had held her in his arms for nearly an hour, just watching her. He had wondered that night if it would be kinder to administer a poison or a fatal dose of anesthetic, but he knew she didn't want that. She wanted to die free, awake and aware.  
  
When he had his own freedom, he had done whatever was necessary to secure hers. He had lied, he had stolen, he had assaulted, and he had killed. She didn't know about that last part, and he wasn't going to tell her. She wouldn't approve if she knew.  
  
And now she was free and she was dying, and he had one last chance to see her again. If there were any justice in the universe, any at all, he would be with her at the end.  
  
***  
  
It was 0436 when the comm system chimed in Chakotay's quarters. He woke instantly, fully alert. "Yes, Mr. Rollins?"  
  
"Sir, we've picked up something disturbing on long-range sensors. I think you should see this."  
  
"On my way." He dressed quickly, and was on the bridge in less than ten minutes. Rollins, who had the bridge on the night shift this month, was standing with McMinn at the Ops station. They both turned to him as he entered, and Chakotay knew immediately something was wrong. Rollins was serious by nature but his face was almost grim.  
  
"Sir. Take a look at this," he said, indicating the monitor at the Ops station.  
  
The long range sensor display showed a blip at the extreme edge of long range sensors, apparently heading toward _Voyager_. There was something familiar about its path, and Chakotay suddenly realized why. "That's the path the _Flyer_ took when Hernandez turned to come back to the ship," he said.  
  
Rollins nodded. "They appear to be following the ion trail. And sir-" he touched a control, and the display changed to show the detailed data on the blip.  
  
The blip was the _Malik Ohn_.  
  
"Yellow alert," Chakotay said at once. "Full stop, Ms. Jenkins. We'll be in their sensor range in an hour if we continue on our current course." He glanced at the chronometer. 0453. He hoped Kathryn was already awake. "Chakotay to Captain Janeway. You're needed on the bridge."  
  
***  
  
Less than half an hour later, Kathryn stalked into the brig and faced a groggy Hernandez. "Did you know the _Malik Ohn_ was following you?"  
  
He rubbed a hand over his eyes and face. "You've spotted them?"  
  
"Yes, we've spotted them. Fortunately, we think we saw them before they saw us. Are they following you?"  
  
"Could be. Most of the unsanctioned ships left the Corish Crescent after the Borg showed up and started aiming at one another. No one wanted to be in the middle of that fight." He shrugged. "I haven't been trying to cover my tracks. If they heard I was in the area, yeah, they'd come after me."  
  
She glared at him. "And you didn't think this warranted mention?"  
  
"I didn't know for certain." He rubbed his face again, more vigorously. "I'm sorry, Captain. I was more worried about the officials from the world I took Lynella from than the Cardassians. I was sincerely hoping they'd been assimilated by now, or blown to bits."  
  
"They haven't been." She was angry again, angry at him and angry at the universe that kept throwing this renegade Cardassian ship in her path. "Tell me something. If they've left the Crescent, do you think that means they've given up piracy? Could they just be continuing toward the Alpha Quadrant like we are?"  
  
He laughed.  
  
Kathryn waited until he finished. "I see your point, Mr. Hernandez. Well. You've handed me a moral dilemma before I've had a cup of coffee, and I don't appreciate it."  
  
"Dilemma?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Hernandez, a dilemma. Do I send this ship as fast as it can go in the opposite direction, or do I take action against a band of renegades who will doubtless terrorize this region of space if left alone? What will they do to people like the Skan-Filar, who are centuries behind them in technology?"  
  
Before he could answer, her commbadge sounded. "Chakotay to Janeway."  
  
"Yes, Commander?"  
  
"They've seen us. Gul Datik is asking to speak with you."  
  
"On my way." She looked up and saw Hernandez was looking almost fearful. "Well. It looks like Datik is forcing my decision.  
  
***  
  
The third shift was still on duty when she reached the bridge, although she had called Tuvok to report for duty early and Chakotay had relieved Rollins. The screen already held the image of the Cardassian commander.  
  
Datik smiled as she took her place on the lower deck. "Captain Janeway. I am happy to see that you have recovered."  
  
"Thanks." She regarded him coolly. Unlike her, he was not on his bridge. The background of the viewscreen seemed to show an office or ready room. Apparently he wanted to conduct this conversation in private. She had no such qualms. "I'm sure you'll understand if I prefer to keep several light years between us."  
  
"I agree," he said. "Captain, I don't have much time so I will be blunt. My crew is panting for your blood -- and they'll come after mine if I don't at least make a try for you. But you and I both know that a fight between us would be disastrous for both sides. Our ships are too evenly matched. Whichever ship left the battlefield would be damaged, possibly beyond repair."  
  
"Perhaps. Or perhaps we've added a few surprises."  
  
"I'm certain you have. I know we have. There's nothing like the prospect of the Borg to engender creativity in Engineering and Security."  
  
Kathryn glanced over at Chakotay, who was frowning. Even though she knew better than to trust him, his words had a ring of truth. "What do you have in mind? Do you intend to surrender?"  
  
He chuckled. "I had forgotten Human humor. No, Captain. What I propose is this: put the traitor Hernandez in a shuttle and send him in our direction. Then you depart as quickly as you can and get beyond our sensor range. The crew's bloodlust will focus on him long enough for you to get away."  
  
"No," she said without hesitation. Bloodlust was the right word; they would torture Hernandez until he died. She would not abandon anyone to that fate, not even someone in her brig.  
  
Datik nodded. "I thought you might say that. It's very loyal of you, Captain, but not wise. I'm offering you the chance to save your ship and crew. He's nothing to you."  
  
"He is a Starfleet officer," she replied. "And I don't bargain in lives."  
  
"Of course you do. Every captain does. Every decision we make affects the lives of those who serve under us. A good captain does whatever is necessary to protect his -- or her -- crew. Sometimes that means lives must be lost, sacrifices made." He leaned forward. "It is a heavy burden, but it is ours to bear. The good of your crew must come first."  
  
Before she could respond, Chakotay stepped forward. "If you really believe that, why did you let us go? You could have stopped me from leaving your ship, or later, you could have attacked the _Flyer_. Why didn't you?"  
  
"Ah." Datik's expression changed, and Kathryn wasn't certain of its significance. The inflection in his voice, though, was rueful. "I'm afraid I've always been a bit of an idealist. Once, many years ago, I thought that the Federation and the Cardassian Union could be allies. I thought that if I let you go, my crew would see the value of an alliance with another ship from our home -- at this distance, anyone from the Alpha Quadrant is from home -- and understand. I was wrong. They understand only that a ship with technology that is likely to be more compatible with ours than anything we can find in this Quadrant got away without a fight. If we meet again, I will have no choice. It will be war between us."  
  
Janeway stood. "Then it will be war, because I will not turn Hernandez over to you."  
  
He watched her for a moment, then shrugged. "So be it. Goodbye, Captain Janeway. We will not speak again except to discuss terms of surrender."  
  
The screen went dark, then returned to the normal view of space. "Ms. Jenkins," she said to the night shift helm officer, "set a course 90 degrees to port." Then she turned to Tuvok. "Can we use the Zornon cloak?"  
  
"Not at the moment. Lt. Torres has conscripted it for her special project. I understand it is not currently functional."  
  
She remembered then; she had agreed that B'Elanna's attempts to use the cloak in the transwarp project took priority. Oh, well. The cloak was unreliable at best. "Ms. Jenkins. Let's see how fast they really are. Maximum warp. Engage."  
  
***  
  
Datik left his office to return to the bridge, but stopped as soon as the door opened. Kheyint stood directly in his path. "Step aside," he said.  
  
"No," Kheyint said and raised his hand, pointing a disruptor directly at him. "You were talking to the Federation captain. Did you make another deal for her escape? Or are you planning to join her ship?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous." He looked around, caught Ghemot's eye. Then he gestured with his hand, hoping to distract the younger man's attention so Ghemot could act.  
  
But Kheyint wasn't distracted. Instead, he fired the disruptor.  
  
The energy engulfed Datik before he could react, a blinding flash of light and heat that seemed to melt his bones. His last thought was that he should have known.  
  
Kheyint turned and looked around the bridge. "I am in command now. Ghemot, do you have any problems with that?"  
  
"No, sir," the elderly officer said quietly.  
  
"Then follow _Voyager_. Do not lose that ship."  
  



	5. Act 4

**Act 4**  
  
Even prisoners can tell when the ship goes to red alert. The lights went out, then returned at half strength while red glare strobed from ceiling panels. Powell, the guard with the cool dark eyes, flicked her fingers across the console that controlled the forcefield. "We're locked into backup power systems now," she told him. "Even if we lose main power, that field will hold. You aren't going anywhere."  
  
"You're right. I'm not going anywhere," he said. "Except Sickbay. Please, will you check again for me?"  
  
She acted as if she had not heard him, but before he could repeat his request a lieutenant came in. Hernandez recognized him - Ayala, the assistant chief of the Security Department. He spoke quietly to Powell, but in the small space, Ramon could not help but overhear.  
  
"It's the Cardassian ship," Ayala told her. "They offered to leave us alone if we gave him over."  
  
Ramon felt his stomach lurch, and he was suddenly cold.  
  
Powell's smile was wintry. "Sounds good to me. After what he did, I figure he and the Cardassians deserve one another."  
  
"I know, but the Captain doesn't see it that way. We're going to try to outrun them. It may not work. Commander Tuvok says to keep him here unless we're boarded. If that happens, let him out and give him a sidearm."  
  
Ramon's breath escaped in a single puff. They weren't going to give him up? They were going to fight for him? Was this a trick?  
  
Powell went on, "He's anxious to get to Sickbay to see his girlfriend."  
  
Ayala glanced his way, then turned back to Powell. "The Captain mentioned that. If we're not actually in battle, go as soon as the Doctor gives the okay. Take a detail." He looked at Ramon again, a look usually reserved for the rotting carcasses of rodents, and then he left.  
  
Ramon realized he was shaking, and sat down.  
  
Powell touched her commbadge. "Powell to Sickbay."  
  
"Yes, Ensign?"  
  
"Mr. Hernandez wonders when he can see the patient."  
  
"I was about to call you. She just woke up. I think you should hurry."  
  
The cold he was feeling intensified. Powell said, "We're on our way," and then reached beneath her console and withdrew a set of wrist restraints. "You'll have to wear these," she said. "It's regulation."  
  
"Yes, of course." He stood and held out his wrists. He wasn't going to make any trouble, not now.  
  
She called the outside guards in, then lowered the forcefield and shackled him. "We'll hurry," she said.  
  
He walked out, and she flanked him, with the two other guards following. The red lights were flashing everywhere, he saw, but no one seemed panicked. The few people they passed moved with practiced quickness but without fear. He thought of the Cardassian ship. Its crew had been disciplined for battle, but there was always a certain feral pleasure when they were at this stage, an anticipation of the kill. This crew was just professionally efficient.  
  
A short and silent turbolift ride, and then they were at deck 5 and Sickbay. They walked in and halted. Torres, the pregnant Chief Engineer, sat on a bed while the Doctor checked her with a scanner. He set his instruments down and walked over to them. "She's failing rapidly," he said. "I'm sorry. There isn't anything more I can do."  
  
"But she's conscious?"  
  
"Yes. She refused any more pain medication until she could talk to you. Don't dither, Mr. Hernandez. She won't last much longer."  
  
He went over to the bed and looked down at her. Her face was pale despite the life support apparatus, her skin was shining from perspiration and her breathing labored. Instinctively, he lifted his right hand to wipe her forehead; since his hands were manacled together, both raised up. Ignoring that, he brushed her hair away.  
  
Green eyes opened. They were dulled with pain, but still alert and intelligent. "Ramon," she said weakly. "I'm glad."  
  
"Don't tax yourself," he said. "Just listen to me. I wanted to get you home, and I didn't. I am so sorry."  
  
"No," she protested. "You set me free, Ramon. My spirit will not wither in captivity -- it will fly home. You gave me my freedom. It is the greatest gift anyone ever gave me."  
  
"You deserve more." He felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes, ignored it. "Lynella, I -- I love you."  
  
She smiled. "I know. It took great love to do what you did for me. Don't grieve, my heart. Love survives." Her eyes closed tightly shut, as if holding back some great pain, and then she looked at him again. "I wish I could touch you."  
  
"Here." Leaning down, he touched his lips gently to hers, and then laid his cheek against hers.  
  
"It's only flesh," she whispered against his ear. "It's not important."  
  
Then she was still.  
  
The medical monitor began to whine, and he straightened. She did not look different than she had when he came in, yet she was gone. He stood, simply looking at her, unheeding of the tears that streaked down his face.  
  
"I'm sorry," the Doctor said. He turned off the monitor and stepped back, letting Ramon have a few more seconds by himself.  
  
He took a deep breath and touched her face one last time. She felt cool for the first time in days, and she looked peaceful, as if she had eased gently out of life. His chest felt full; he knew it was the grief that would consume him when he let it escape. For now, though, it remained where it was and left his head surprisingly clear.  
  
Turning, he sought the Klingon engineer and found her standing beside her husband's bed. Her expression was carefully blank, but her eyes were fixed on him. He couldn't tell if she felt anger or sympathy, and he no longer cared.  
  
Without hesitation, he walked over to her. "Tell Captain Janeway I want to speak with her," he said. "Tell her -- I claim the right of vengeance."  
  
***  
  
"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Hernandez," Captain Janeway said, "but I can't accept it. I won't use a life as a bargaining chip."  
  
They had taken him back to the brig, but Torres must have relayed his message quickly because before the manacles were removed, he was taken to the conference room on the bridge. He looked around the table, noting the solemn expressions of Torres and Chakotay. The Vulcan was solemn also, but that meant nothing. Vulcans were always solemn.  
  
"It's not about bargaining, Captain." He faced her directly. "It's about tactics. Have you managed to shake the _Malik Ohn_?"  
  
Tuvok answered. "No. They are matching our speed. They appear to have significantly enhanced their engine capability since our last encounter."  
  
"And their weapons, you can bet on it." He looked at Chakotay. "Even if _Voyager_ wins, you'd lose a lot of people in the process. And you might not win."  
  
"Perhaps. But we won't be taken, either." He glanced at the Captain, and then added quietly, "This crew will not become prisoners of the Cardassians."  
  
Hernandez lifted his shackled hands. "Oh, fine. Self-destruction is a much better alternative."  
  
"Mr. Hernandez," the Captain said, "Self-destruction is our last option. Even if I turned you over, I don't trust Gul Datik. His intentions may be honorable, but he left me with the distinct impression he can't control his crew. We could give you to them and still find ourselves in combat. It's not worth it."  
  
"That's what I want to tell -" he began, but the commsystem interrupted.  
  
"Captain, there's a message coming in for you. He says he's the captain of the _Malik Ohn_ , but it's not Gul Datik."  
  
Janeway rose, and pointed at Hernandez. "Bring him along. I want him to see whoever this is."  
  
She walked out first, followed by Torres. Chakotay and Tuvok waited until the two guards came and flanked him, then they walked out. Ramon and his keepers were last out of the room. He stood against the wall next to the conference room door and watched the viewscreen.  
  
Kheyint, he thought.  
  
"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway," she said. God, she was a cool one, Ramon thought. There was just the right blend of authority and condescension in her voice, as if she were speaking to a first year cadet. "I am accustomed to speaking with Gul Datik."  
  
"He's dead." Kheyint's sneer was exaggerated. "We know he tried to strike a deal with you. He was either a coward or just too old to command. You'll find that I'm very different. You won't escape me so easily."  
  
"You know he offered me a deal," Janeway said. "Do you also know I turned it down? Hernandez is a Starfleet officer and under my protection. I will destroy your ship before I hand him over to you."  
  
"No. We will destroy you." His chest seemed to inflate, and he took a dagger from a sheath at his waist and used it as a pointer. "Do you think you can run from us? Cowards. We will catch you. And we will take your ship and make slaves of those who survive." He tilted the pointed end of the knife toward her. "I will keep you for myself, I think."  
  
He was posturing too much, Ramon thought. It was his Kazon blood.  
  
Janeway smiled, coldly. "We have a saying on Earth. Turn loose your dogs. If you don't understand it, you will."  
  
She made a slashing gesture, signaling termination of the communication and the screen blanked. "Mr. Hernandez," she said, turning to him, "who was that blowhard?"  
  
"His name is Kheyint. He's half Kazon and he may be an idiot, but he's a dangerous idiot." He paused. "Captain, he will not be rational. He will keep coming and coming until one of you has been destroyed."  
  
"Tuvok, were you able to scan them? Can you tell what their capabilities are?"  
  
"Yes. I suspect they wanted us to see. They have made significant enhancements to both engine systems and weapons. Captain, they now have more capacity for combat than _Voyager_."  
  
She looked at her Security Officer for a long time, then her First Officer, then she turned her head away. "Battlestations," she said quietly.  
  
Ramon took a step forward. "Captain Janeway," he said. "Please, listen to the rest of my proposal."  
  
***  
  
"Send me back in the ship I was in when Paris found me. If the warp core is set for overload, the _Malik Ohn_ will be destroyed."  
  
"It's suicide," Janeway said, surprised by his suggestion.  
  
"Probably." They were back in the conference room, the four senior officers and Ramon. "But it's worth it. I know Kheyint, Captain. Now that he's taken command, he'll believe that he's got to take you in battle. He won't reason with you and he won't stop chasing you. He won't stop until one of you is destroyed."  
  
She smiled. "Others have had that attitude. The Borg, for one. We're still here."  
  
"Yes, but how many crewmen have you lost?" When she flinched, he was gratified to see that he had scored a point with her. "Captain, if it were necessary to save the ship, would you order a member of your crew to sacrifice himself? Commander Chakotay? Commander Tuvok? Lt. Torres?"  
  
It was one the key points of command, and everyone at the table knew it. She looked at each of the officers he had named, and straightened. "Yes, Mr. Hernandez, I would."  
  
"Then give me that order." He took a breath. "I was a Starfleet officer once. Let me be a Starfleet officer one last time."  
  
Dark blue eyes fixed on him, taking his measure, deciding. Finally she said, "They will detect the warp core breach before they bring you on board."  
  
Torres said, "I think I can help with that, Captain. One of the devices I've been testing will cause a delayed cascade in the shuttle's warp drive. It won't be noticeable for 180 seconds after activation, and at that point it's irreversible. The shuttle explosion will cause a warp core breach in the _Malik Ohn_ 's main engines."  
  
The Captain still did not respond immediately. Her gaze was fixed on something far away, and she stood very still. Finally she said, "Lt. Commander Hernandez, work with Lt. Torres. How much time do you need?"  
  
"Half an hour," Torres said.  
  
"You'll leave in thirty minutes, then."  
  
He felt a rush of relief, and of long-forgotten pride at being addressed by his rank once more. "Thank you, Captain."  
  
"Don't thank me, Commander." She turned and looked at him. "Just make it count."  
  
***  
  
"You know," B'Elanna said, lying flat on her back to work on a connection directly above her, "this really is an amazing ship. I learned a lot from it."  
  
"Really?" Hernandez looked around. "It still looks like a pile of junk to me. It was the only thing I could get my hands on in a hurry. I can't imagine what you learned from it."  
  
She was working with a micro-solder to weld the prototype into place. "I think I found a way to make incompatible equipment work together. If I'm right, this crew will owe you even more."  
  
"There's no debt," he said quietly. "Lieutenant, I am truly sorry about your husband. I hope he recovers fully."  
  
"I believe you." She flicked off the micro-solder. "There. Don't activate it until you're on board. Then you've got three minutes."  
  
"You're sure?" Ramon peered at the device. It looked innocuous.  
  
Her lopsided smile was mocking. "Oh, I'm sure. I've run the damn thing through enough simulations." She rose to her feet, feeling both physically and emotionally awkward. "I don't know what to say to you."  
  
" _Qapla'_ would be appropriate." He smiled. "Or wish me luck."  
  
"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "For us, or for her?"  
  
He shrugged. "Both. And maybe for myself as well. Is that good enough for you?"  
  
She nodded slowly. " _Qapla'_. Good luck, Commander."  
  
"And to you, Lieutenant. To us all."  
  
***  
  
Janeway sat in the command chair on the bridge, waiting for the signal. Finally Tuvok said, "The shuttle bay reports ready."  
  
"All right. Let's make it a good show." She looked over her shoulder. "Miss him, Tuvok, but only just. It has to look good."  
  
"I shall do my best."  
  
She nodded and touched the comm control on the chair. "Commander Hernandez, you may begin."  
  
"Aye, Captain." Ramon Hernandez sounded calm. "Initiating launch now."  
  
A few seconds later, Harry reported, "The ship has cleared."  
  
Chakotay looked at her, then activated the comm system. "Hernandez, this is Commander Chakotay. Return to _Voyager_ , now."  
  
"Sorry, Commander." Hernandez was completely in character; he sounded scared and determined at the same time. "I'm not going to hang around and become a Cardassian prisoner. Not again. Oh -- don't bother to try the tractor beam. I disabled it."  
  
"Dammit, Hernandez, we trusted you." Chakotay was also doing well, she thought; he sounded properly impassioned.  
  
"Your mistake."  
  
The Captain leaned forward. "Mr. Hernandez," she said in a voice that could make ice, "if you do not return to _Voyager_ this instant, we will have no choice but to shoot you down. We are aware that certain -" she counted to three for dramatic effect -- "technology has made its way to your ship. We will not allow that to fall into the wrong hands."  
  
There was no response. She turned to Tuvok and nodded.  
  
"Firing phasers." On the screen, she watched a line of white light streak past the little ship, close enough to singe its hull. Tuvok looked at her with one eyebrow slightly raised. "A miss."  
  
"Very good," she said, and meant it. That was precision work. "Can you do it again?"  
  
He tilted his head, a sign that he was taking up her challenge. "Firing now." Again, the white streaked near the ship, this time underneath it. "Another miss."  
  
"What is the _Malik Ohn_ doing?" she asked Harry.  
  
"It's turning now," he reported. "It's going after the shuttle."  
  
"About time," she muttered. "Raise the _Malik Ohn_."  
  
Kheyint's face filled the viewscreen. He looked almost rabid with anticipation. "That shuttle is ours," she said without any attempt at diplomacy. "If you go after it, I will regard it as an act of war against the Federation."  
  
He laughed. "What do you think this is, Captain? A game?"  
  
The screen went dark. Feeling unaccountably discouraged, she turned and nodded to Chakotay. He understood, and said, "Fire again, Tuvok. Target the engine nacelle. A glancing blow, if you can."  
  
"Understood. Firing phasers .. now." The screen showed the streak of light make contact with the back corner of an engine nacelle. The shuttle began to spin wildly.  
  
"Good work," Chakotay said to Tuvok.  
  
"Congratulations are meaningless, Commander. It is not difficult to hit a target that expects to be hit."  
  
Harry spoke up. "The shuttle has lost engines, and the _Malik Ohn_ is closing in on it. They've put a tractor beam on it."  
  
"Hold position," Janeway said. "Tuvok, target the source of that tractor but miss it."  
  
"I trust I may hit some other part of the ship."  
  
She looked at him over her shoulder, and he turned to his task. "Firing phasers. Direct hit, but their shields are holding. There was minimal damage.  
  
"Transfer all available power to the shields. Stand by, Mr. Culhane."  
  
"The shuttle is on board the _Malik Ohn_ ," Harry said. "And they are firing phasers."  
  
Janeway nodded. "Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Culhane."  
  
"One hundred and eighty second countdown has begun," Chakotay said. "Keep us circling for another two minutes, and then get us the hell out of here."  
  
***  
  
Kheyint grinned. Things were going well. The Federation ship had come about in another futile attempt to outrun them. "Don't lose _Voyager_ ," he snarled to Ghemot. "They're next."  
  
The old man shook his head. "Something is wrong here, Kheyint. This was too easy. It may be a trap of some kind."  
  
"A trap? You heard Janeway. She wanted that ship. She tried to destroy it rather than let us take it."  
  
"And she missed. Do you think that ship made it this far in the Delta Quadrant by missing its targets? I tell you, something isn't right."  
  
Slowly, Kheyint began to frown. Then the doors to the bridge opened, and two guards hurled the traitor Hernandez to the deck. He landed on his knees in front of Kheyint, who happily backhanded him across the face. He waited until the man lifted his head, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. "That old woman there thinks you tricked us," he said. "Have you led us into a trap, you coward?"  
  
"Would I do such a thing?" Hernandez paused, then managed a lazy smile. "As a matter of fact, Kheyint, I have -- and there's not a damn thing you can do about it now."  
  
Kheyint wasn't certain he had heard correctly. "What?"  
  
"Kheyint! There's a buildup of energy in the shuttle bay -- his ship -- the engines --"  
  
"See you in Hell," Hernandez said, rising to his feet and wiping the blood from his face. _Lynella_ , he thought, _are you near? I am coming._  
  
The explosion began before Kheyint could react. At first it was just sound, a dull bass roar that seemed to be approaching the bridge in waves. Then the roar became a boom, and the boom became a never-ending scream, and the _Malik Ohn_ tore itself apart before it disappeared into the blossom of a warp core overload.  
  
  



	6. Epilogue

  
**Epilogue**  
  
B'Elanna stood in the holographic reproduction of Voyager's bridge and took a deep breath. "Computer, initiate program Torres Transwarp-Eta."  
  
The simulations of the bridge officers appeared and Captain Janeway turned in the command chair on the bridge and looked at B'Elanna. "Any time, Lieutenant."  
  
B'Elanna nodded once. "Transwarp coil is on line and in stand-by mode. Zornon cloak is at full capacity. Beginning countdown to temporal stabilizer." She watched the monitor carefully. "Temporal stabilizer engaged and functional. Transwarp coil in active mode. Captain, we're ready."  
  
"You heard her, Mr. Paris. Engage warp engines, and go to transwarp at your discretion."  
  
"Aye, Captain." B'Elanna watched the recreation of Tom closely as he tensed with concentration. "Warp 9. 9.25. 9.6. Engaging transwarp drive."  
  
B'Elanna stopped breathing.  
  
"Transwarp drive engaged and functional." The hologram of her husband swiveled in his seat, his face nearly split in two by his smile. "You did it. We're going home."  
  
She exhaled, and said, "Computer. End program."  
  
***  
  
Kathryn sat at her desk in the ready room, sipping her coffee slowly. "Computer, resume recording Captain's log entry."  
  
_"Recording."_  
  
_"Any reservations I had about the destruction of the Malik Ohn were eliminated when we saw the explosion. The magnitude of the resulting shock wave was far greater than would result from just two warp core breaches. Lt. Commander Tuvok and Lt. Kim conducted a detailed analysis and have concluded that the Cardassians were carrying at least two weapons of mass destruction, probably tri-lithium bombs. To the best of my knowledge, only Borg cubes and spheres have sufficient armor to withstand such weapons. I have no doubt that Kheyint would have used them to suit his purposes. Not only would Voyager have been destroyed, but he would have been free to threaten or destroy the worlds in this region.  
  
"Let the record show that Lt. Commander Ramon Hernandez gave his life in the line of duty. My recommendation for the Starfleet Citation for Conspicuous Gallantry will be attached to my next report to Starfleet Headquarters.  
  
"A memorial service for Lt. Commander Hernandez and for Astrogator Lynella ep re' Dorasachisheido has been scheduled for tomorrow. Our efforts to evade the Malik Ohn took us too far away from the Skan-Filar homeworld to make a stop there feasible. We shall commend her body to the stars and leave a message buoy, as we did for John Kelly. Perhaps one day her people will find it and understand.  
_  
"Computer, end recording."  
  
Almost before the last word was out of her mouth, the door chime sounded. She frowned; she had specifically told Chakotay she didn't want to be disturbed. "Yes?" she asked.  
  
The doors opened, and Chakotay stepped in. "I know -- you didn't want to be interrupted. But I thought you'd want to know. The Doctor called. Paris is awake."  
  
***  
  
B'Elanna walked into Sickbay and froze. Tom, dressed in his uniform pants and a t-shirt, was standing up and arguing with the Doctor, following him as the Doctor paced back and forth near the bed. His gait was perfect, his eyes focused and clear. She couldn't have stopped the smile on her face if her life counted on it.  
  
Then Tom saw her, stopped and grinned back. It took only few steps to close the distance between them and wrap him in her arms. He held her just as tightly. "Hey," he said softly.  
  
"Hey yourself." She swayed slightly, and he righted them both; his sense of balance seemed to be just fine. Her smile deepened. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"I'm feeling just fine, thank you very much." He shook his head. "When was the last time I told you you're beautiful?"  
  
"About a week ago." She touched his face, then turned her head to look at the Doctor. "How is he?"  
  
"Lt. Paris is as fit and as obnoxious as ever," the Doctor reported with a smile that belied his acerbic tone. "He responded to the regeneration therapy completely, and he can return to duty tomorrow."  
  
B'Elanna, awash with relief, smiled at him. "Thank you, Doctor."  
  
"My pleasure." He shrugged. "It was a unique experience to have Mr. Paris in my Sickbay for two days without being subjected to his lightning wit or pithy comments. Pity it couldn't last."  
  
"So," Tom said, pointedly ignoring the EMH, "did I miss anything?"  
  
"A bit. I'll tell you about it all later." Her eyes gleamed. "Since you weren't around I had some time on my hands. I think I've done it, Tom. I think I've found a way to make it work. The stabilizer, I mean. It can work with the cloak and the gel packs on one side and the transwarp coil on the other. I think we can get to transwarp."  
  
He stared. "Really?"  
  
"Uh huh. Harry helped me -- but that can wait. The important thing is to get you home." She looked over her shoulder. "Can I take him home?"  
  
"Please," the EMH said. "If you leave him here, I won't be held responsible for my actions." He grinned to prove he was kidding, and went into his office.  
  
"Very funny," Tom said. "Let's get out of here."  
  
"Yes, sir." She reached up and touched his face, her smile suddenly fading.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
" _Mok'tah_ ," she said softly.  
  
His brows came together. "Bad match? Is that what you said?"  
  
She nodded. "Once I was afraid we were a bad match. But we fit together, Tom. I'm beginning to think there is no such thing as a bad match. The trick is to find the way to make things fit."  
  
"Okay." He was nodding, which meant he had no idea what she was talking about but didn't want to make an issue of it. "If you say so. Let's go home."  
  
She slipped an arm around his waist. "Let's."  
  
As they walked into the corridor he said, "Did you catch the guy who hit me?"  
  
"Yes. We did."  
  
"So, did you rip his heart out? Or is he in the brig?"  
  
She rested her head against his shoulder. "He's not in the brig any more. And I didn't have to rip his heart out. That happened without me."  
  
They were in front of the turbolift, waiting. "There's a story, isn't there?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll tell you when we're home."  
  
The lift doors opened and they stepped inside.  


  
-the end-

 

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE: As always, my thanks to the 7.5 staff for their comments and assistance, especially Cybermum, Rocky, Christina, and jamelia. Thanks, too, to everyone whose comments on "Wrongs Not Forgotten" inspired me to try again.
> 
> Coming Next: "Links: Letters II" by Cybermum and the writing staff of VS 7.5. Letters from home are precious when they're chatty and full of news from family and friends--but a few may turn out to be a bit harder for the recipient to read.


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